


Pro Tem

by ifnotfornatasha



Series: Jurisprudence [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt Jake Peralta, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta is Bad at Feelings, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifnotfornatasha/pseuds/ifnotfornatasha
Summary: It still hurts.Aka, Jake copes with Amy breaking up with him out of nowhere. Or, more accurately, he doesn't cope at all.//Sequel to Justice System, now renamed Ex Parte.





	Pro Tem

Jake tried reading.

Anything to feel like there was a part of Amy still with him.

However, he never actually read the words on the pages or followed the stories that the authors had carefully crafted. His eyes never registered what was playing out right in front of him. Still, he would "read."

He would inhale the new book smell that Amy had always raved about. He cried, reading, not because the stories were particularly compelling (maybe they were, he wasn't paying attention) but because _he_ shouldn't be the one reading. He was never the one who went out to libraries and checked out a stack of books up to his chin.

He was the one who tried pronouncing all of the hard Shakespearean names, inevitably butchering every single one of them, resulting in an Amy Santiago eye-roll and a mock questioning of _why are we even together._

He was supposed to be the one on his phone, playing Kwazy Kupcakes, loudly wondering why someone who worked at a precinct would wanna _read_ about stabbing people when they could just go to work and _see_ stabbed people.

Still, he flipped through the pages of stories, novels and plays, familiarizing himself (ish) with new authors and titles as often as he could. The words would blur together when he read too late or when he didn't wipe at his eyes enough, but it didn't matter.

The books didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

•

He still bought her shampoo.

It was a Kérastase nutritive shampoo, which she always claimed her brother, Mateo, only bought for her because he kept forgetting that his wife's sister didn't like it, and he would therefore give the shampoo to Amy instead. Just a result of her brother's forgetfulness.

Really, though, she just liked the way it felt, smelled and made her hair look.

She had always said that she much preferred Pantene, the far more practical option, which was a lie and they both knew it.

It wasn't like Jake prided himself on still thinking about these sorts of things, weeks after they'd broken up. But a part of him didn't believe that Amy could just leave like that for no reason, which was what a sane person would describe as Jake being delusional.

But seriously, one day, everything had been fine, and the next day, she'd left. Jake had braced himself for an awkward Wednesday greeting, spent all morning talking to his reflection in the bathroom mirror, but when he'd finally made his way through the doors of the nine-nine, he'd been kindly informed that Amy had quit and moved away.

Which was suspicious, right?

 _But_ , Jake rationalized, _if it was really that suspicious, other people would be worried too. You're just not thinking straight, because she broke up with you._

He might have been a little angry that he'd spent the morning (and night, he didn't sleep) panicking on the floor, sobbing and eating noodles only to wake up to find out it had all been for nothing.

He might have been angry for how he'd wasted all of his energy and love on a girl that apparently didn't love and cherish him like he did her, which, _typical_.

Except he wasn't.

He wasn't angry.

At least, not at her.

He was angry about the Hamlet joke he'd made the night before she left, about all the stupid jokes he'd made, instead of respecting the things that Amy loved.

He was angry about how he apparently didn't put enough effort into their relationship as he thought he had, because if he had, she'd still be there by his side.

He was angry about how he was seven years old again.

He was angry about the tears that mixed with the shower spray running down his face as he lathered his hair in Amy's $50 Kérastase shampoo.

He was angry about how Amy's smell followed him around like a shadow.

He was angry about how much he loved the scent of her.

He was angry about how much he missed her.

•

He didn't really go out anymore.

A few days ago, Rosa had asked if he wanted to grab a drink with her at Shaw's and he had declined on the spot. Drinking with Rosa meant sangria (but if anyone asked, they drank straight vodka) and sangria meant drunkenly spilling all of his emotions. Jake was holding it together like a ripped stuffed bear with only one thread left to pull before it fell apart; so, well. He was holding it together _well_.

Terry had asked if he wanted to go out with him, Sharon and the kids to dinner, which had become somewhat of a monthly thing since Ava had been born. Jake had politely declined, because being around a happy family like that, a mom, a dad and kids, would have pulled open his heart as well, just like sangria.

Holt and Kevin had both individually sent him an e-mail, which was a testament to their combined concern because both of them despised the idea of an "electronic mail."

They'd asked if he was feeling well and Jake had replied that he was feeling _good_ instead of _well_ just because he knew that both hated it. In their follow-up e-mails, neither commented on that or any of the stupid made-up words that he had created in his e-mail.

Hitchcock and Scully had asked him over to Scully's house, an offer that Jake had obviously said no to, because Hitchcock and Scully.

Charles had left him several hundred texts but limited his voicemails to only eighteen, no doubt with some influence from Gina.

Really, Jake was just counting down the days until either Charles, Gina, or both just crawled through his window.

For now, he solved cases at work and effectively did nothing but cry at home.

•

Amy never took anything of hers with her to wherever she was.

Jake could have easily swept everything of hers into a box to put away or just moved out of their apartment. His apartment.

But any home of his wasn't right without Amy.

•

Saturday night, Jake ended up going to Shaw's alone.

He did, actually, drink straight up vodka, because he likes sangria and he didn't feel like enjoying himself.

"Hey." a woman said, sidling up to him, very obviously pushing her boobs up against the counter.

Pretending not to notice, Jake started to play with his napkin.

She poked him. "Hot stuff. C'mon."

He reluctantly turned his head to her and she immediately brightened, twirling her hair, which was black, but not black enough. Too long, as well.

"I was beginning to think that you were some kind of mute or something." she giggled, loudly chewing her gum, which was a disgrace, because _you sound like a galloping horse, Jake, is that really necessary?_

He offered her a tight smile. "Then I guess you've been pleasantly surprised."

"You're funny." she laughed, putting a hand on his thigh.

He hadn't said anything funny. It was more ranging on the dumb side of things, which should warrant an eye-roll, not a laugh.

"Guess so." he replied, staring back at his napkin and his empty glasses.

"My name's Sonya." she whispered, right in his ear. He's sure she must be staining his ear with her garish purple lipstick. Her hand on his thigh went higher. "Wanna get out of here?"

He seriously thought about her offer.

Did he?

He thought about January 14th, 2014.

He thought about Amy.

No, no, he doesn't.

"I'm married." he blurted out, instead of just saying no like a normal person. Immediately, Sonya drew away. "Omigosh, I am _so_ sorry."

"Yeah." he said, awkwardly, instead of saying _it's okay_ or _it's my fault, not yours_ to make her feel better.

Sonya ambled off, leaving Jake alone.

He softly ran his right fingers over his ring finger. There'd been so many things missing in his life since Amy had been gone.

Maybe he'd found something that was missing before that.

Yeah, great revelation, Jake. He checked his phone. April 28th.

Only three months too late.

•

Gina broke into his house a week and a quarter later, basically to whap him upside the head, give him burnt sugar cookies and finally, to rat him out for not coping. Big whoop. Nothing new.

 _She hated me too,_ Jake supposed, _just like Amy_. Because he did stuff like that now. He _supposed_ things. Thanks, books.

She left after three hours. In those three hours, she did his dishes, washed his clothes and forced him to eat.

It was real food, not candy, and it was stir-fry. She actually put vegetables in it this time, as opposed to noodles in a pool of soy sauce. It only took one spoonful until he was sobbing on her shoulder. He cried and she uncomfortably patted him on his back, holding him close.

She left when he'd become an empty shell again.

Two days later and Charles was persistently knocking at his door, over and over and over and over again. Jake let him in only because his head was about to explode from the incessant knocking.

He'd brought food as well and it actually looked edible. Normal. Jake didn't bother identifying what Charles was feeding him. It didn't really matter.

Charles didn't clean, he's not allowed to because he'd break too many plates, but he does talk on and on, filling the empty space in Jake's "home" with the sound of his voice.

He talked about Nikolaj, didn't have to correct Jake about the pronunciation because Jake really was pretty much a mute, at this point; Sonya was right with her first guess.

Charles talked about Eleanor, he talked about the new restaurant that'd opened that was going to be closed down within the next week _at least,_ he talked about the new pants he'd bought that had _tons_ of room in the crotch area, he talked about the pigeon documentary he watched that had been surprisingly emotional, he talked about the new genre of porn he'd discovered, but he didn't breathe a word about all the tears that his shirt was gathering from Jake's silent crying.

He wanted to sleep over and Jake didn't really want him to, but he also didn't have the energy to speak up or to physically push Charles out the door.

So Charles stayed.

Charles made him breakfast, tried to get Jake to change clothes (and failed) and then he drove him to work.

•

Jake got a new desk partner.

Her name is Amelie but she goes by Mel.

Mel loves candy, cop movies and a healthy amount of roleplay while on the case. She jokes around, her desk is messy and her handwriting is unreadable.

She sounded like Jake's perfect woman.

But she also didn't get any cases done, was incompetent on the field and couldn't ever be bothered to do her paperwork.

Before Amy, Jake would've already entered a semi-frequent, casual boink relationship with Mel.

But it isn't before Amy. It's after. And Jake hates Mel.

Maybe it's because the desk across from him has always been so clean, and now there's mold, toys and weird purple goop on the sides.

Maybe it's because she keeps trying to make him the victim when they roleplay at crime scenes.

Maybe it's because of the way she wears her shirts; the collar is never right and it's always uneven.

Maybe it's the way that she gives all of her paperwork to Jake, who gives it to Charles, who gives it to Rosa, who staples the papers to Mel's computer. Somehow.

Maybe it's the way that Mel isn't really funny, even if some of the others at the precinct laugh at her jokes. But never anyone from the inner circle.

Maybe it's because Mel obviously has no idea whose desk she's occupying, whose shoes she's filling, what role she's supposed to play at the precinct.

Maybe it's because Mel isn't Amy.

Bitterly, Jake looks up from his nearly finished paperwork to glare at his new desk partner, who's clearly on her phone and chewing McDonald's with her mouth wide open, like a gigantic horse.

His paperwork is far from perfect, but at least he actually does his.

He wishes he could get a new desk partner.

But mostly, he wishes he could get Amy back.

**Author's Note:**

> it's not really about anything but Amy.
> 
> I know I need to finish Static and I have so many other fics lined up but I was feeling sorry for myself so I pushed my feelings into this one and wrote most of it last night at like 2am and then just now. it's barely edited so excuse any mistakes I may have made in the text and feel free to point them out.
> 
> break-ups... aren't fun. life tip, Taylor Swift really does come in handy, but I've mostly been listening to Flower Face and Billie Eilish to cope
> 
> and I don't think this is what people were asking for when they asked for a sequel to Justice System, but... here we are. more sad, less happy, you're welcome I guess, haha.
> 
> tumblr: @motherbucker


End file.
